


strike out

by kyochisas



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Happy birthday Leon!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 08:55:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9172015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyochisas/pseuds/kyochisas
Summary: he was meant for great things





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday Leon!!
> 
> Leon has always been one of my favourite characters, and was my SHSL Fave (hehe) for a long long time!! I hope this fic does him justice!!

He was 6 when he saw his first pitch.

Sat on the knee of his father to see over the heads of the crowd, there was a silence in the ring as the bowler stood on plate. He touched the ball gently, patting it in between his hands and even throwing it above his head, only to catch it again. Leon’s father whispered into his little ear that he was just warming it up.

And then it happened. The bowler stood, feet apart tapping the ball in his palm a few more times. Then, in almost a blink of an eye, he raised his leg and then slammed it back down onto the sand, letting his arm fly to the front, holding it forward as the call shot out of his fingertips so eagerly, missing the bat completely. A fastball, that had scored a third strike.

The crowd roared in excitement, and stood to their seats so suddenly as if they were a wave on the shore. Leon’s father was much the same, of course, raising his small son high above his head as the two of them joined in with the deafening cheers. Though Leon didn't understand fully what just happened (they had gotten crappy seating), he knew it must have been something awesome.

* * *

 

He was 7 when he pitched his first ball.

Despite his short stature, and his tiny arms, the batter got a strike, and he had only stared at his own hands afterwards before pitching a curveball with no effort, gaining another strike.  
“Christ, Leon,” he remembered his uncle commenting from the sidelines, his daughter sitting on his lap. “Are you sure you haven’t played baseball before?”

Leon nodded furiously, before staring at his hands, his eyes starting to twinkle. He was handed his third ball, and gained his third strike. The boy standing at home plate frowned, before throwing the bat down on the floor in a fit of childish anger.

After the game had finished, with Leon’s team winning by a large majority, all the boys went home to their parents, while the young brunette remained in his backyard, his nose wrinkling as he felt his uncle stick the bandaids to his face. He had played like a league professional, however, his little legs didn't support that just yet, causing him to fall over a lot more than necessary.  
“Leon,” said his uncle after he had finished, his voice low and barely above a whisper. “How would you feel about playing baseball… everyday?”  
The little boy gave a quiet gasp. “R… really?”  
“Mhm.” He played around with the whistle around his neck - the true sign of a coach. “I could get you hooked up to may team for now, you could maybe even go on to little league, or even bigger places.”  
The light that lit up Leon’s smile was all the answer he needed.  
He ruffled the boy’s hair, before standing to his full height. “But, you gotta practise, or you’ll lose that golden touch. Got it?”  
Leon nodded so hard it looked like his neck would snap, before grinning up at his uncle before he left.

Later in the evening, Leon’s mother ran outside after discovering her young son had gone missing, only to find him stood at the back of the garden, throwing a baseball he’d played with that day at the wall.

* * *

 

He was 17 when he pitched his best ball.

His year at Hope’s Peak Academy had just started, and it was in the middle of June. Leon Kuwata was a name the sporting world knew of by now… if you didn't, you were either living under a rock, or were purposefully avoiding the entire world of baseball… even then, it was hard to escape his name and face in sports magazines and tabloids alike. Leon would never object to the publicity, of course - it would make it all the more easier when he eventually would switch careers, from baseball to music.

The summer air was laced with typical smells - burning meat, flowers and sunshine, and the day was hot and aglow with yellow tones that hit his back. He stepped up onto the plate and tossed the ball between his hands, looking down with anticipation as memories twinged in the back of his mind (were they the last memories he had of his father, or just the last ones he could remember? He was so young when he had walked out, after all) and sweat started to gather on his forehead. They weren't nerves, he told himself - he was sweating because he was too damn hot.

Aqua eyes glanced up to the benches, and he could hardly miss the huge banner, hand crafted with glitter and sparkles, courtesy of Enoshima and Maizono. He smiled to himself. If you strained your ears, you could hear the shouting from the rest of his classmates, coming from the benches - “Go, Kuwata-kun!” “Pitch the ball!” “Do it, Kuwata!”. At those distant reassurances, he could feel his muscles tense. He had to get this right. For his career, and for his pride.

Leon’s breathing caught in his throat as he adjusted his stance. For his career and his pride, he reminded himself as he let his arm bend behind him. For his career and pride, he told himself as he lifted his leg as far as he could. Career and pride, the words were louder than the sound of his heart beating in his ears (out of adrenaline, not nerves, of course) as the sand exploded around his foot and the ball flew out of his hand. A fastball…

...a third strike. And his team had won by a majority, per usual.

Stunned for a moment, Leon didn't move from his place as he blinked slowly. Not even the roars of the crowd told him it was time to celebrate, until he heard the shouts of familiar voices.  
“Excellent performance, Kuwata-kun!” Even from such a distance, Ishimaru’s voice was perfectly audible.  
“Yaaas! Kuwata-kun, a-maze-ing performance!” In an oddly royal tone, Enoshima expressed her performance, though he couldn't help but cringe a little at the way she said it.

After he took off his helmet and shook the sweat out of his hair, the redhead looked over to the section of the benches holding his classmates, watching them cheer and clap and whoop just for him… Leon felt a smile grow on his face, out of pride and thankfulness that they were so happy for him, even though they knew nothing about baseball at all (well, most of them, anyway.).

He knew that this was the start or many memories to last a lifetime.

* * *

 

He was 19 when saw his last pitch.

His face was numb and wet with tears, his arms sore from tugging and pulling to try to set himself free. It was hard to breath through his nose without choking. He couldn't see very far; it was just a chain link fence, with 12 other students behind it. He hardly knew them. He met eyes with most of them; they stared back with looks of anticipation. Chihiro Fujisaki daren't look at him. Makoto Naegi stared straight at the floor. He didn't blame either of them.

Leon’s gaze grew misty again as he heard the sounds of a machine whirring to life. His whole body started to shake, and as if he couldn't control himself he started to struggle again. The metal bands coiled around his arms and legs still refused to let him go. He wanted to run. He had to run. To get to home plate, the final base-

The first ball was pitched, and he was one strike out.

Leon involuntarily gagged, blood spilling from his lips as the baseball shot into his arms that were cupped around his chest, causing him to elbow his stomach. The all-star let out a short cry of pain to match, starting to cry again. But that didn't matter, when it happened again, and again, again, again, again, again again againagainagain-

Leather against skin, leather against fabric, staining it with dirt and the aftermarks of baseball stitching, as Leon could hardly breathe anymore, blood dribbling down his chin and getting caught in his goatee. In any other situation, he would be mad his facial hair was now a mix of fire and crimson, but at that moment all he could think about was how he was going to die.

This was the second strike, and if you listened closely you could hear the screaming of this torture to stop from behind the chain link fence over the sound of the machine.

The baseballs just kept coming, and after a while he couldn't feel anything at all, leaving his to flinch helplessly as he stayed strung up against the pole. He glanced down, sweat sticking to his forehead, as the redhead realised he was crying so hard he couldn't see the floor just a short distance away from him. There really was no hope for him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, gusts clenching as he gave his last apologies to the students of Hope’s Peak Academy, and to Sayaka Maizono, the girl he had killed with his own two hands.

The third strike hit his head at break-neck speed, and he was out for good, his arms limp and his blood dripping onto the AstroTurf by his feet from his bloody, bruised and beaten body that would never receive a proper burial.

Leon Kuwata was out.

**Author's Note:**

> Why can I never do nice things for my boy.


End file.
